Chapter 4
IVY
Later, I pick up my phone and start scrolling. It’s easier than thinking. Easier than sitting in the silence.
I tell myself I’m checking messages. I’m not. I’m looking for something to remind me I still exist outside of this place.
Then I see them.
Spiders.
Elaborate terrarium setups taking over my feed like someone went shopping in a teeny tiny Spirit Halloween and exploded it all over the inside of the large glass case.
I actually smile. I haven’t seen those bougie spiders in ages.
And somehow, they’re doing a better job of making me feel something than anything else has lately.
Without thinking, I type:
Me:
Wow, your spiders are really blowing up my feed today.
I go back to scrolling, reacting to things like my life isn’t quietly unraveling.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes.
I glance down.
And freeze.
Soren.
I blink, like maybe I’m reading it wrong. I haven’t talked to him in years. Not except in the occasional passing comment.
Not that we ever did connect properly at all. Not really. We stayed connected in that passive way people do when they briefly existed in the same orbit and never fully left it.
We met at a college party. Forgettable—except for him.
He was striking. Stood out in the crowd. Didn’t seem to be buying into all the party bullshit the same way everyone else was.
There was a moment. Something that almost happened. And then didn’t. No follow-up, other than exchanging socials. No progression. Just a shift back into normal life like it hadn’t meant anything.
But it did.
At least to me.
I always wondered what would have happened if I’d leaned into it. If I hadn’t walked away so easily. If I’d stayed just a little longer.
Life moved. I moved with it. And he became one of those people who exists in the background of your life—familiar, but distant. A name. The occasional post.
Spiders, apparently, are his thing.
I open the message.
Soren:
I’ve been watching you.
I didn’t like what I saw.
My chest tightens. It shouldn’t feel this good to be noticed. This relieving to be remembered.
Especially when the message sounds a little like pity.
Or judgement.
Or both.
Soren:
I hope things are going in the right direction?
You don’t look like yourself.
Ouch. That one stings, even though it’s true.
Then it hits me. Fire crawls up my chest and across my cheeks.
A couple of months ago, when everything was happening, I posted too much. I said things I probably shouldn’t have. I didn’t filter anything. I just… wrote it all out. Put it on blast to several thousand of my closest friends, acquaintances, frenemies, and randoms I’ve added along the way.
At the time, I didn’t care. I thought if it helped even one person feel less alone, it was worth it. And it felt good to get out of my system.
Now I feel exposed. Like he saw all of it. Like people actually read and digested it and thought about it in some capacity.
Still, he reached out.
That part sticks.
That part lands.
I type back.
Me:
Yeah. Thanks. Getting there. How have you been?
His reply comes almost immediately.
Soren:
Moved to Ravelle for a job. Been here five years.
Ravelle.
A gritty city with a soul, a past, and plenty of opportunity.
I can picture it. A full life. A normal one. Forward movement.
A little spark of envy ignites in my chest.
Me:
How do you like it?
Soren:
You should come visit. Get out of there for a bit.
It’s not good for you. I can see it from here.
I frown slightly. I don’t remember posting about where I am now— just where I fled from.
But I brush it off. It’s not like it matters. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anyway.
Still, the way he says it sticks.
You should come visit.
It doesn’t feel like a throwaway comment. It feels like something else. Like an opening. And I hate how quickly my brain grabs onto it.
What if I did go? What if I left for a few days? What if I could just… breathe?
Because that’s what this is now. After escaping one man, I landed in the house of another. A friend. Someone I trusted.
But things change. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes kindness turns into control and you don’t notice until it’s already wrapped around you.
Or maybe it was always there and I just chose not to see it, because it was easier not to.
And I’ve been going along with it. Keeping things calm. Staying quiet. Making myself easy. Small. Invisible, but clearly not enough.
I stare at Soren’s message again. My heart is beating faster now.
Not excitement—urgency.
Because the truth is, I need out. Even if it’s temporary. Even if it’s just for a few days.
I type before I can overthink it.
Me:
Maybe I will.
I hit send. And immediately feel it. Something sharp. Like something just shifted.
Like something just locked into place.
Like a door I didn’t mean to open has quietly shut behind me.
And for the first time since I left the man who almost destroyed me, I have the distinct feeling that I’m not the one deciding what happens next.